


And then I think of all the "What If?"s and I lose a little more of my soul

by Colourspaz



Category: Mighty Ducks (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 08:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18442799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colourspaz/pseuds/Colourspaz
Summary: I'm so sorry for thisThis came over me at 10 pm when I had no internet access so it was all frantically scribbled into five pages worth of my Newsies themed notebook





	And then I think of all the "What If?"s and I lose a little more of my soul

Hockey's always been a salvation for Fulton. Even before he knew how to skate. Whenever it got too loud in his house and nobody saw him cowering in the corner with his hands over his ears, he could always escape to the alley with nothing more than an old hockey stick, a trunk, and too much pent up energy. 

It's even better when Bombay teaches him to skate and gives him a spot on the Ducks. For the first time in his life, he has friends. Has a purpose. 

Stepping onto the ice is like a breath of fresh air, every single time. His chest feels less tight and his head clears and he revels in the clean, sharp energy of a slapshot heading towards the goal. He didn't think he'd ever need more than this. 

And then he meets Dean Portman, and his whole life flips upside down. 

Looking back, he finds it funny how they couldn't stand each other at first. How quickly that changed. He's glad it changed, too. He doesn't think he'd be even remotely the same person he is now without Portman. 

Him and Portman are the perfect pair, both on and off the ice. But, that being said, they have seperate personalities for when they're in public versus in private. When in public, they're all loud shouts and heavy metal and and crazed energy. In private, though, they're unbeliveably tender and compassionate and loving. When Portman kisses him for the fist time, he almost forgets how to speak. 

In the fall, when Fulton learns that Portman isn't coming to Eden Hall, it's like a piece of him is missing. There's a constant gnawing feeling in his stomach, and he forgets to eat sometimes. He can't sleep well, either, and when he does, it's fitful and cold. Smiling and talking come to him slower than ususal, and when he does, it's quiet, subdued. Tired. 

When Portman walks into the locker room, it's like a switch is flipped in his head. Everyone can see the difference, can see how wide he's smiling, but they don't mention it. 

By the time senior year rolls around, they're all on Varsity and the've gotten quite a reputation. They're known as "The Bash Brothers" to classmates and "PortmanandFulton" to their friends. A single entity both ways. Neither of them mind. Only their teammates (Plus Bombay) know that there's something more between them, and they'd like to keep it that way. 

So, life is good. They graduate and both end up on the University of Michigan hockey team with full athletic scholarships because nobody in their right mind would separate the infamous Bash Brothers. Nothing can go wrong. 

Right?

It happens out of nowhere. The sidewalks are slippery during Michigan winters. Walking back from class, Portman slips and hits his head, and thinks nothing of it. But when his headache doesn't go away for three days, he makes an appointment. He never makes it there, because he collapses 20 minutes after he hangs up the phone. 

The worst part of all of it, Fulton thinks, is seeing his fiancé, usually so strong and full of energy, lying there in a hospital bed, being kept barely alive by countless wires and machines. He isn't in the room when the flat beep of the machine rings thoughout the room. He supposes that's a good thing. 

Apparently, Portman's fall had led to spinal fluid leaking into his brain, which led to his collapse, which led to a seizure, which led to... 

Fulton can't bring himself to say it. Think it. Not when the nurses tell him. Not when he's making the funeral preparations and cancelling the wedding plans. Not when he sees the dark casket closed at the front of the church. 

He can't even step into the locker room anymore, let alone the ice. It doesn't matter where it is, he still gets shaky and short of breath and his eyes well up with tears that he refuses to let fall. Hockey was so ingrained in his and Portman's relationship, and now that Portman's...well. He still can't say it. He quits the team two days after the funeral, and the school withdraws his scholarship. He has to get two jobs, and he takes all the shifts he possibly can. He'll even take ones he can't get paid for, because it beats going back to the silent empty apartment. 

He writes letters, too. Thousands of them. He'll stay out in the park until he can't see the paper in front of him and his pen is out of ink and he can't feel his fingers. He goes through notebook after notebook, and always seems to run out quicker than anticipated. The one thing he never runs out of is tears. Every single letter he's written to Portman is stained with at least a few. 

He tries to move on. He really does, but he ends up joining Portman two years later. His neighbor finds him slumped at his desk, an empty bottle of pills in one hand and a letter, one last letter in the other hand. 

"Portman. 

I'm sorry. I tried, I really did. I love you. You were the best thing that ever could have happened to me and I love you I love you I love you I love y "

The end of the letter trails off the page; the pills taking their effect. If they hadn't he could have written a million, a billion more "I love you"s and it still wouldn't be enough. 

When Portman finds him in the Elsewhere, he's shocked but he's not mad like Fulton expected him to be. He just pulls Fulton into a bone-crushing hug and whispers over and over how much he loves him. 

Time passes differently in the Elsewhere, and before they know it, everyone else is there. And what else is there to do but play a game of hockey?

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry for this 
> 
> This came over me at 10 pm when I had no internet access so it was all frantically scribbled into five pages worth of my Newsies themed notebook


End file.
